


Orange Juice

by TheRookie6



Category: Clarke Griffin - Fandom, The 100 (TV), lexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRookie6/pseuds/TheRookie6
Summary: A modern day take on a snippet of Clarke and Lexa's relationship.





	

I don’t know what’s more pleasurable, the sounds of her labored breathing or the way her body continues to spasm if I gently brush against her naked skin. She makes me feel invincible at this moment, this moment of pure raw emotions. I’m slowly readjusting and making my way back up to face level, I want to see what she looks like after that climax but I don’t wanna rush her. No, no rush. I don’t want her to move a single inch; I want to drink this all in. She’s perfect. Her left arm drapes over her face, her eyes and bridge of her nose is covered, her bottom lip is bright red, her cheeks are flushed, and her forehead has perspiration dripping down her face. She looks beautiful, her body twitches as I maneuver my leg between hers and straddle the right leg all in order to peer down at her. “Oh my god! No more…I can’t..I can’t even explain how amazing that felt and how my body still doesn’t know it’s over. You cannot touch me!” Clarke groans between spasms and deep breaths. “Clarke.” I say softly, creasing her hand. She moves her arm so she can see my face, “I love you, you know that right.” I lower my face towards her; my hair creates a curtain to any peering house cat that might be sneaking looks at us. Her lips taste raw and feel tender; she must have been biting them when I went down on her. She pulls me closer, her left hand cups the back of my neck, I’m forced to move onto my forearms just above her shoulders while we lock lips. I could get lost in her lips; Clarke had a way of kissing you into complete oblivion. I’ve lost arguments because she’ll kiss me so hard I’ve forgotten we where even talking. My favorite is when she has a hunger in her eyes and precedes to invade my space causing me to back up against a table or a wall. Once trapped she usually starts kissing my neck, I melt every time. Her voice brings me back, “Babe,” her voice is all breathy, “you are amazing.”

The light starts to penetrate through the shades, as if screaming for us to get up. Even Clarke’s cat is meowing loudly, sounds hungry. I don’t want to move, Clarke is using my shoulder and bicep as a pillow, one of my favorite sleep configurations. Back infused with my front, laying on my side like so allows me to big spoon the blonde. “Clarke. Clarke.” She starts to stir, groans a little and flips so she’s now facing me. “Hey. Your cat.” I softly say, but she tries to burrow into my chest as if she can escape her responsibilities at this time. “C’mon, you’re the one who wanted the flea bitten cat. You cannot ignore him.” Rubbing her arm and gently poking her as well, Clarke mumbled into my chest, “Fiine. But don’t leave this bed.” Clumsily fighting her way out of the sheets and staggering towards the door, this was one of my favorite past times, watching Clarke leave. Her night shirt was a large team building exercise work shirt that hung just low enough to cover her waist but just high enough that when she walked the shirt rode up a little exposing her cheeks. She has caught me staring multiple times before and this morning was no different. Clarke chuckled to herself and made her way down the hallway and out of sight. It didn’t take long before I could hear cabinet doors open and close, glass clink and soft padded feet run towards the kitchen. Clarke’s talking to the flea bitten sorry excuse of a cat sounded muffled but I could guess she was talking baby talk to him. She loves that damn cat.

I’m not sure how long Clarke had been at the doorway peering in, but when I noticed her she gives me a devilish grin. Clarke has this talent of being good at pulling her shirt off making it look as if this was the first time I had ever seen her naked. With her shirt on the floor, she advances towards the bed; I wasn’t fully sat up before she was already straddled on me and pulling rather eagerly on my shirt to take off. I’m not gonna protest this. Clark gives me a wet kiss, she tastes like orange juice and I like it. I like it a lot.


End file.
